Half Life
by zookitty
Summary: Mile after mile blended together and Dean hadn’t said a word in three hours. Sam laid his head against the door. He closed his eyes and saw her.


**Gibberings: **I'm baaaaack. I've had a hard run with Supernatural lately but I just watched P.S.I Love you and HAD to write this story! So finally...a new SPN fic.

Betaed as always by the lovely and talented Moogs

**Spoilers:** Major up to Sex and Violence

**Characters: **Dean, Sam and Jess

* * *

Dean dropped his duffle on the brownish carpet. It had been a quiet ride. Sam leaned against the whitewashed doorframe and watched his brother. Dean turned and met his gaze. It was the first time they had looked at each other since they set out two days ago.

Dean looked away first. "We have a long way to go tomorrow. Get some rest."

"I left something in the car," Sam replied. It was the closest thing to a conversation they'd had in days. He ducked out the door, avoiding hitting his head on the too-low rafter again.

The parking lot was vacant save for the Impala and the Bug littered with crude bumper stickers. Sam laid back on the hood of the Chevy and let his thoughts wander.

A sound caught his ear and he looked back toward the room. "Dean?" He pushed open the door. He saw the flicker from the old dial TV.

_"You can always tell what kind of a person a man really thinks you are by the earrings he gives you."_

An amused smile fell across Sam's lips. He walked up to the green couch and leaned against the stained cushion. "Dean, are you watching a ch…" His words died as he found himself caught in blue eyes. Eyes that weren't Deans.

The delicate lips parted as a hand slid into his.

"Jess?"

"Hi Sam." Her hand guided him to the seat beside her. He leaned into her curls. She smelled like chocolate and nail polish. He felt tears running down her face and into his hair, but when he looked up her attention was back on the screen.

"It always makes me cry. I love it," she said, wiping the moisture away.

"I never understood that," he replied.

"That it's my favorite or that I love it?"

He smiled against her thin shoulder. "Both."

"OK, life's a fact. People do fall in love, people do belong to each other - because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness," she quoted. He pulled back and the smile fell away.

"I haven't dreamed of you in… a long time," he whispered. "Where have you been?"

She turned, laying a hand against his cheek. "I'm always here. You just haven't needed me." She pressed a kiss against his lips. He felt her, soft and real as life. And then he didn't.

Sam opened his eyes and stared up at the stars. He was still sitting on the hood of the Impala.

_-_-_

Mile after mile blended together. The low tunes of Black Magic Woman played on the stereo and Dean hadn't said a word in three hours. Sam laid his head against the door. He closed his eyes and saw her.

She stood in front of the hall mirror in their apartment in that black frilled skirt, buttoning her ironed white shirt.

"I love that skirt," he said, walking up and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I could never get you to wear it anywhere but to church."

"Where do you think I'm going now silly?" she said lightly. She pulled her curls back into a pony tail, letting two ringlets fall at either side of her face.

"You're going to church?"

"Where else. It's Sunday." She leaned back into his arms. "Have you forgotten?"

"I haven't seen a lot of miracles since you died," he replied. She turned around in his arms until her face was inches from his.

"Maybe you haven't been looking."

"Sam." Sam sat up, nearly hitting his head against the roof of the Impala. "We're here," Dean said, getting out of the car.

_-_-_

Sam walked through the motel room without looking around him. If there was a ghoul, ghost or demon waiting for him they would have to wait till after his shower. He dropped his jacket to the bathroom floor with a shlop. He cringed as another drop of green ooze fell into his eye.

"You stink."

He looked into the mirror and saw her, standing there with her nose crinkled up. He felt the tension around his eyes soften.

"I'm glad you never knew about this part of my life," he replied, sitting on the toilet lid in exhaustion. Jess sat on the edge of the tub, meeting his eyes.

"I knew."

He straightened, looking wide eyed at her.

"Not about the hunting," she corrected, "But I knew there was something you weren't telling me." Sam felt his shoulders slump as he let his head fall into his hands.

"You never pushed. Didn't it bother you?"

"Sometimes," she said, "But sometimes you have to trust people even when they keep something from you."

He started at the knock on the door.

"Hurry up in there…you're not the only one who got sludged," Dean called through the door. Sam turned back to the shower but she was gone.

_-_-_

It was barely morning and he and Dean were the only practitioners of the cheap diner called Meme's. There was a slightly fifties theme overlapping a slightly western theme, as if the diner hadn't really decided what it was.

Dean had been burying his face in the menu since he noticed the cute "waitress" was named Harold. Sam's eyes were wandering, never staying long on one spot. A group of teenage girls walked in giggling. One of them headed to the juke box in the corner and dumped in a coin. She seemed to deliberate for a moment before picking a song, but Sam instantly recognized it.

_I've heard there was a secret court…that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do ya. _

This time he knew she was there before he opened his eyes. "You loved this song." Jess smiled.

"I never understood it," she replied. Sam laughed.

"I don't think anyone does."

"You remember I used to play it when we were trying to study. We would fight over that all the time."

"It was one of the only things we ever fought over," he replied. Jess leaned her elbow on the table, leaning on her hand.

"Loss makes the heart grow fonder."

"What?"

"Come on. We fought over politics, what percentage of milk to drink and how much salt one could possibly need in a small apartment." Sam laughed.

"I'd forgotten about all of that."

"It's amazing we ever made it," she said, musing. "But we did. Sometimes people don't fit perfectly right away. Sometimes you have to work at it."

He leaned forward, inhabiting her air like he had so many times before. "But we would have worked , wouldn't we?" It wasn't really a question. She leaned into him also.

"Of course, both of us were to stubborn not to work at it."

She leaned back and grinned. "Your foods here."

"Huh?"

"Sonny…your foods here." Sam blinked open his eyes and saw the middle-aged waitress laying a plate in front of him. Dean was watching him with troubled eyes that instantly darted to the food when Sam noticed.

The younger Winchester looked at his food. He hadn't ordered anything but setting in front of him was blueberry waffles. The breakfast Dad used to get them on special occasions. He looked up at Dean but the older was still examining his food. Sam leaned back against the booth and smiled.

_-_-_

Sam walked out of the diner and stopped, his eyes tracing the brick building across the street. He hadn't noticed it before.

"We should probably get started again," Dean said. He still had that look. It was one that reminded Sam of old Dean.

"Yeah…just give me one second." He walked by his brother and crossed the street. He walked up the stairs to the brick building, and read the inscription on the door. _Enter Those Who Seek to Find,_ written in Latin. He pulled on the old wooden door but it didn't budge.

Slowly he walked around the church, walking along the iron graveyard fence. There she was, sitting on an old stone bench under the shadow of a willow. Her bare feet kicked back and forth in the grass, a white sun dress coming to her knees.

"You were talking about Dean all along weren't you?" he said. "Ever since the Siren things have been so screwed up between us." She looked at him then, knowing and prompting at the same time. "You're right…things were screwed up before that." He sat down beside her, sighing deeply and letting the air cleanse his lungs.

"But you were talking about him all along weren't you?" he said. "It's a miracle he's alive. Sometimes I get so caught up in how bad things are I forget to see that." She looked back to the grass, her feet still swinging with the innocence of a child. "I have to start trusting him again. He keeps secrets but…I don't exactly let him off the hook even when he finally comes clean." He stared at her profile as he spoke. "And I have to find a place for him in my life again."

She looked up at him then, her eyes full of all the love and passion he remembered her for. "Sam…I love you." She touched his cheek. "So does your brother."

"Sam."

He looked to the corner of the church where Dean stood, his eyes searching.

"Sam…you ready to go?"

There it was. The subtlety Sam had been missing. _Sam are you alright? Can you ever forgive me? Are we too far gone? _Dean was looking to him for answers for once. A smile slid across Sam's lips.

"Yeah…I'm ready."


End file.
